


Bits and Pieces

by viola1516



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Post-Gravity Falls, Post-Weirdmageddon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:06:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9464519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viola1516/pseuds/viola1516
Summary: Created for week three of Stanuary on tumblr. The theme is memories.One-shot. After struggling to regain his memories, Stan realizes that there are some things better left in the shadows of his mind.Feel free to comment!





	

“So,” Ford concluded, “That’s what happens when you mix toothpaste and radioactive oranges.”

Stan laughed, enjoying the moment with his brother. “You two were crazy,” he chuckled. The stories that Ford would tell about his times working with McGucket were always amusing, even if Stan didn’t understand the science parts. 

“Yes, those were some crazy times, indeed,” Ford replied, smiling. “But you know what dad used to say about your twenties,” he added, tipping his glass of iced tea towards Stan before taking a sip.

But Stan had stopped, smile frozen on his face. _You know what dad used to say about your twenties._

He didn’t. 

Come to think of it, Stan couldn’t really even remember his father. But at Ford’s mention of Filbrick Pines, Stan’s heart rate sped up, his breath catching in his throat. He suddenly felt very small. 

That was the thing about regaining his memories. Even though the picture wasn’t always there, Stan’s emotions were. 

Like when Dipper and Mabel had rushed forward after he was… erased. His heart had soared at the sight of these two kids that he didn’t know. It was unsettling. Like his body was on autopilot, going through the motions and leaving his mind behind. 

Stan cleared his throat, shaking off the fear that had clawed its way up his throat. “You know, I, uh, don’t.”

Ford looked up, taken aback. “Oh, Stanley, I didn’t mean--”

“No, Sixer, I--” Stan stopped short, unsure of how to put it into words. 

His mind was spinning, grappling with the bits and pieces he could recall. 

A hand coming down in punishment. 

A pair of dark sunglasses reflecting a crestfallen young boy.

_“I’m not impressed.”_

A door slamming. 

Stan looked back up at his brother, who was waiting patiently for him to collect his thoughts, as he always did when Stan’s memories faltered. 

“Now that you mention him I…” Stan trailed off and looked up at his brother. “I don’t really remember our dad at all.” He paused for a minute. “I just have bits and pieces, y’know?”

Ford nodded slowly. “This is typical of memory loss for things to not come back in full,” he began. “But--”

“No,” Stan interjected. Ford raised his eyebrows, but didn’t continue. “You don’t understand. Even though I can’t remember things all the time, I still have… I don’t know, the feelings.”

Stan could practically see the gears in his brother’s head turning. “Interesting,” he murmured, reaching for one of his legal pads, which had replaced his journals upon their return to Gravity Falls. 

“Ford,” Stan began, disjointed images flashing behind his eyes. “Our dad… was he a good person?”

Ford pen froze on the page, and he sighed. “Well,” Ford began, “That depends on who you ask.”

He set his legal pad aside and took another sip from his glass before continuing. “He was very good at his job. He was a tough, silent, cold man running that pawn shop.”

Ford paused before adding quietly, “But I didn’t realize how much he hit you until after you left.”

With his brother’s words, the dam in Stan’s mind burst, all of it coming back at once. 

Stepping in front of his brother when Ford’s science project made a mess in the kitchen. 

When he was older, stepping in front of his mother. 

_“You did_ what, _you knucklehead?”_

The front door slamming, leaving an 18 year old Stan out in the cold. 

“I didn’t go to his funeral,” Stan said suddenly, staring at the floor. “I-- I… I couldn’t. I had everyone fooled that I was you. He _loved_ you. And I still couldn’t make myself go. Figured he’d still make me feel like a screw up.”

Stan looked up at Ford’s rueful chuckle. “He loved me a lot less when the money didn’t come rolling in,” Ford replied. “Ever wonder why I got through college so quickly and moved 3,000 miles away?”

“I always just assumed you were a nerd,” Stan quipped, earning him a punch in the arm. 

The two sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own memories. 

Stan sighed, taking a sip from his own glass of lemonade. “Here we are,” he declared, “two knuckleheads not worthy in the eyes of Filbrick Pines.” 

“Hey,” Ford smiled. “I’d rather be a knucklehead with you than a genius with dad any day.”

Stan grinned. “So you admit I’m smarter than you?”

Ford rolled his eyes. “I never said that!”

As the two laughed, long and loud, Stan decided that what he didn’t remember about his father wasn’t important. But this, time spent here with his brother, was. And Stan wanted to remember it for as long as he lived.


End file.
